Iron Blood
by Maddie Rose
Summary: Greyjoys do not sow. They pay the iron price, never the gold. This is what Charlyse Greyjoy grew up fiercely believing. Yet when destiny sees her path cross with Robb Stark's, her beliefs are thrown into question. She must decide who she loves most, and what is worth fighting for. Even if it costs her everything she holds dear. Robb/OC
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Siege of Pyke**

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**A/N: Hi everyone! So, from the poll I think a lot of you have been looking forward to this story. It's a Robb/OC, with my character being a Greyjoy. Charlyse is quite young in the prologue, which is set during the Greyjoy Rebellion, so if her perspective is a bit lacking in description it's because she's a child still.**

**There is also a trailer for this story up on my Youtube, which you can find a link for on my profile. I know that I said I wasn't going to put this story up until I was done with Shades of War, but I'm so close to finishing that and I had already started on this so I thought I might as well. **

**Please review and let me know what you think!**

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_"In a battle, all you need to make you fight is a little hot blood and the knowledge that it's more dangerous to lose than to win." _

_- George Bernard Shaw_

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**289AL**

Smoke stained the morning sky a dreary grey, and the cries of the gulls resonated throughout the halls of Pyke where otherwise there would be silence. A small blonde girl crept barefoot amidst the bodies strewn across the floor of the dining hall. She bit at her lip as her wide grey-blue gaze took in the glassy eyes and horrific wounds of the men who lay immobile. Throats slit, heads tilted at impossible angles…the little girl started to panic, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe, hands fisting in her flaxen blonde hair.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It was all a nightmare. Papa said that she had to be strong, and being strong meant that she had to banish her fears. The kraken was not a coward. If she concentrated, she could hear the waves crashing over the rocks, and taste the sea salt on her lips. The thought made her smile dreamily, before the sound of boots stomping heavily on the stone floor caused her eyes to snap open. She realised, to her great horror, that the multitude of bodies on the ground were not a figment of her overactive mind.

"Charlyse, what are you doing in here?" Balon Greyjoy frowned deeply as he entered the hall to see his six-year-old daughter standing among the bodies. It wasn't something he would ever have wished his child to witness. The atrocities of war were not for the eyes of the child, least of all his youngest. Especially considering that his eldest sons were among the dead.

"Papa." Charlyse padded towards him. Her bare feet tentatively avoided the bodies of the dead, but an audible whimper escaped the child when her toes skimmed through a pool of blood beside a man's head. Her eyes welled with tears and Balon sighed, stepping across the corpses of his men and picking up his youngest child. It was only then that Charlyse realised her father was not alone – in fact he was accompanied by two other men, both of them wielding swords.

"Where are your other children?" The taller of the two men rumbled impatiently. He was the biggest man that Charlyse had ever seen, and she recognised him by the golden crown that adorned his black hair. This was Robert Baratheon, the man they had rebelled against in the first place. If he was here, that must mean her father had lost the war.

"Yara and Theon are in bed asleep." Balon's voice was very tight, and Charlyse's eyes flicked to the other man, the quiet one. She didn't know who he was at all, but she knew things were very bad. Was their home to be taken from them? Even as a child of six, Charlyse knew the stories about what had happened to the Targaryens. Was she going to be killed like the Targaryen babes?

"Papa." She tugged fearfully at her father's sleeve.

"Not now, child." Balon's cold voice silenced her immediately, and her lip started to tremble. He sounded angry with her. Was it because he knew bad things were going to happen to them? "Would you like me to go and wake them, my lord?"

"The correct form of address is 'your Grace'," the other man said tersely, his grey eyes narrowing as he inspected Balon. "You've lost this war, and you would do well to remember your place. Robert is your King."

"Enough, Ned." Robert cut off the other man with an irritable glance, and Charlyse realised that the other man was Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. She prided herself on remembering bits of history she had overheard – during Theon and Yara's lessons, during which Theon himself had almost fallen asleep. "Let's see what's to be done now with Balon's remaining family."

"I'll take you," Balon stated, and as they stepped through the bodies once more, he covered Charlyse's eyes. She understood then that it was a horrible thing she had seen, not something she was meant to see. A typically curious child, Charlyse would normally have been tempted to push her father's hand away. But having witnessed the blood and the gore, Charlyse remained quiet, and kept her eyes closed.

* * *

Theon slept, but he rarely dreamed. Dreams were for girls anyway, that was what he thought. Yara dreamed of boys. Charlyse dreamed of toys. But Theon had late nights and late mornings and a void of sleep in between. He liked his sleep, dreamless as often it was. What he did not like was being roughly shaken away and opening his eyes to Yara's unusually pale face. Groggily, the eleven-year-old rubbed his eyes and groaned pointedly.

"Get up, Theon," Yara snapped. Even as Theon heard the panic in her tone, he bolted upright. He normally woke to the smell of sea salt, or the sound of waves crashing in the distance. Soothing sounds. Today, he woke to the smell of smoke and the sound of men shouting in the corridor. He was on his feet in an instant, and a good thing too, for only a moment later did his father Balon enter the room, carrying a distressed Charlyse.

"Father?" Theon glanced between his father and sister, frowning deeply. Lines of sorrow were etched across Balon's face, although Theon had seen them there for days since they had learned of Rodrik's death. Theon's eldest brother had died during a battle at Seagard, although there had never been much love lost between Theon and his older brothers. Theon had a distinct feeling that now Maron too was gone.  
"Quiet," Balon commanded, and then the room was filled with the presence of a huge man who towered over Theon like a bear. A crown was nestled amidst dark hair, and Theon swallowed hard. He knew that he was looking upon the usurper, Robert Baratheon. Long had Balon refused to bend the knee to a man he considered to have taken the crown when it was not his right, but now it seemed Balon's defiance had been his undoing.

Yara moved forward to take Charlyse from Balon's arms. There had always been a special kind of love between the two Greyjoy sisters. Although Theon was protective of his younger sister, and would easily raise a fist to anyone who spoke ill of her, Yara's was a different kind of love. Maternal perhaps, an attempt to replace the mother who had died birthing Charlyse. Although the eight year age gap made the sisters very different, that didn't stop Yara from caring for the sweet-natured child. They all had, even Maron and Rodrik.

"I'm not a baby," Charlyse said indignantly, kicking her legs until Yara relented and set her on her feet. Nonetheless, the blonde girl lingered shyly behind her sister, clutching at Yara's hand and peering out nervously at Robert every now and again. Theon didn't mock her as he sometimes did, for the huge Baratheon scared him also.

"Why do you want to see my children?" Balon's voice wavered slightly as his wide, pale eyes turned upon Robert. Theon could hear the panic in his father's tone and he stepped closer to his sisters. "You have already taken my oldest sons from me. What do you plan to do with them?"

"Robert…" The other man, who had remained quiet and stoic the entire time, stepped towards the King, but Robert waved a dismissive hand at him. Theon wasn't quite sure who the man was, but thought perhaps it was Eddard Stark, Robert's closest friend since boyhood.

"You worry too much, Ned. Traitor to the crown though you may be, Greyjoy, I don't intend to harm your children. I do intend to teach you a lesson, and hope that your spawn might be better raised under better influence."

"You intend to take them away from me." There was no question in Balon's voice, and Theon wanted to reach for his sisters, but at the same time knew not to. He was a kraken. He was strong. If they were to tear his family apart, he wouldn't show how much the thought would hurt him.

"The younger two only," Robert stated, nodding thoughtfully as he gazed at Theon and Charlyse. "Keep your older girl. But the boy and your little girl will be taken from you as penance."

"Not my son," Balon protested, and Theon felt a strange sort of pride swell inside him, feeling as though he was the favoured one. "He is my heir, your Grace. My only living son."

"Maybe you'd have more living sons if they hadn't chosen to take up arms against me," Robert responded, clearly unaffected by Balon's pleas. His eyes again swept over the children. Yara raised her chin proudly, and Charlyse stepped shyly behind her older sister. "I'll bring one of them to King's Landing to raise as my ward. Ned, are you willing to house the other in Winterfell?"

"Of course, your Grace." Ned paused for a moment. Theon's heart hammered in his chest and he rather selfishly hoped that he wouldn't be the one who was chosen to go with Robert Baratheon. "I'll take the boy, if that pleases you. He's only a little older than my son Robb."

Theon glanced at Charlyse, realising this meant she was going to be headed for King's Landing. She was perhaps the same age as Robert's son Joffrey, little shit though Theon had heard he was. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, but he never raised his voice to take her place. For all he knew, Winterfell would be no better.

"Then it's decided." Robert's tone was firm as his narrowed eyes found Balon once more. "The boy will go to Winterfell, and the girl will come with me to King's Landing."

* * *

The thought of separating his remaining three children broke Balon's heart. He had no desire to see Theon and Charlyse leave, but the matter was out of his hands. Robert had given them their time for goodbyes, and although the krakens of the Iron Islands were proud, they would use that time to full effect. Looking upon his younger two children now, Balon could see how young they looked. Charlyse was only six years old, and she was to set off alone with his enemies.

"You must both promise me that you will be good wards for King Robert and Lord Stark." Balon gazed sternly between them both. He wished he could tell them to rebel, but they were only children. They had been given a chance, and although they were technically prisoners rather than wards, any bad behaviour would certainly get them and Balon into strife. "I do not wish to hear that anything has happened to you because you have chosen to do the wrong thing."

"Yes, Father," Charlyse said in a small voice. Her bottom lip was trembling and she looked as though she was going to cry. Balon heaved a sigh and kneeled in front of his little girl, putting his arms around her and pulling her close. This would be harder for her than Theon. Theon would have young Robb Stark, but Charlyse would have no one but that awful Joffrey child.

"Don't cry," Balon wiped at her tears and gripped her small shoulders, looking into her watery eyes fiercely. "Remember who you are. Remember that you are a Greyjoy. Remember our words. What price do we pay, Charlyse?"

"The iron price," the little girl stated with certainty, "Never the gold."

His heart swelled with sudden pride in his youngest, and Balon Greyjoy kissed the top of the child's head, before he clambered to his feet once more. As painful as it would be to part with two more of his children, at least Theon and Charlyse would live. It was a far more merciful fate than Robert Baratheon had delivered his older sons.

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Charlyse knew from the moment she arrived in King's Landing that she was going to hate the place. It was so very hot, so alien to her. There was nothing she could possibly compare to Pyke in a positive way. She wanted to like her new home, but the Red Keep towering over her just made her think even more that she was a prisoner.

Charlyse didn't like the King either. She hoped maybe the Queen would be nicer. Robert was a man who shouted most of his words, which scared her. In fact, most things since she had left the Iron Islands scared her. Charlyse felt like she was a quivering little jelly, so easily intimidated by the slightest of things. Wrapping her thick black cloak tighter around her, Charlyse looked up at Jaime Lannister as he offered her a hand down from the wheelhouse. She didn't trust him. Her father had always warned her that the Lannisters were no good. Catching hold of the edge of the wheelhouse, Charlyse found her footing herself, ignoring Jaime's outstretched hand.

Even the sea here smelled different. They were on the other side of the continent, as far away from the Iron Islands as Robert could have hoped to send her. Yet despite the waves crashing over the rocks in King's Landing too, it didn't smell like crisp fresh air, or taste like sea salt on her lips. It was just humid, and it stank of sweat. Her little nose wrinkled.

"Take the girl to your sister," Robert rumbled, his gaze directed at Jaime, and then at Charlyse. "Have her cleaned up and dressed like a proper southern girl, not one of those bloody Iron Islanders."

"Is Cersei aware of the situation?" Jaime inquired, and Charlyse folded her cloak even tighter around herself as she realised that they were referring to the Queen.

"She'll be made aware of it now," Robert stated bluntly in reply, and Charlyse could only watch with growing trepidation as the King trudged off, leaving her at the mercy of the Kingslayer. The child looked up at the blonde man, who rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Come, girl."

Charlyse wanted to argue that her name was Charlyse, not 'girl', but somehow she couldn't get the words past her lips. Instead she followed Jaime into the Red Keep. She had heard so many stories about it from her lessons, and had never expected to actually ever see it. Her clothes stuck to her skin unpleasantly, and she already knew she was going to hate the warmth.

Upon entering the Queen's chambers, Charlyse felt even more nervous, her hands becoming clammy. The blonde woman turned around, her eyebrows raised at the sight of her twin brother and the young girl who accompanied him. Charlyse felt awfully small.

"Who is this?" Cersei inquired, but although her voice was quiet and held no menace, there was no trace of a smile on her face. Charlyse's first thought was not to trust her. Her father would have told her not to trust anyone. She raised her chin and tried to act older than her young years.

"My name is Charlyse Greyjoy."

Cersei's green eyes filled with shock, and they flicked back to Jaime. "He brought a Greyjoy back here with him? What is the meaning of this?"

"He wishes for the child to become a ward," Jaime sounded very bored, as though nothing could keep him interested. "He said you are to have her cleaned and dress as a southerner."

Cersei's eyes narrowed, and Charlyse had to stop herself from cowering. She was determined that the Queen wouldn't frighten her. Even if she was alone and in an unfamiliar place, she was still a Greyjoy. The Queen stepped forward, examining the child intently. Charlyse bit her lip as Cersei kneeled down in front of her with a rustle of skirts.

"How old are you, child?"

"Six," Charlyse replied confidently. She knew that it must seem very young to the Queen, but she wasn't a baby anymore. Yara and Theon treated her like she was sometimes, but being taken from her home meant that she had to act sensible and grown up.

"The same age as my son Joffrey," Cersei mused, casting a glance over her shoulder at Jaime. "I don't suppose you know why exactly my husband wants a ward?"

"We can raise the girls in our beliefs and marry her to man we deem fit," Jaime shrugged his shoulders, but the words angered Charlyse. Their beliefs? She didn't hold faith in the Seven, she prayed to the Drowned God! How dare they assume she would do otherwise.

"I don't believe what you believe," Charlyse said stubbornly, "I pay the iron price."

"No." Cersei clambered to her feet, looking down at the young girl. There was no smile either on her lips or in her eyes, which even young Charlyse could see were cold. "You pay the price for your father's sins. But you will learn, Charlyse. You are a ward of the King now."


	2. What Is Dead May Never Die

**Chapter One: What Is Dead May Never Die**

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**A/N: Seven hells. I just wanted to say how utterly amazed I was by the feedback for the prologue - 17 reviews, over 30 favourites and over 70 follows? Honestly, I'm just blown away by the fact that so many people were interested in my story - and just the prologue too! So thank you all, so much. I'm really hoping this isn't going to seem slow, but I did want to get some background down.**

**This first chapter takes place seven years later, so it's only two years before the events of Season 1. Don't worry, next chapter will start in Season 1. This chapter is just to establish some more of Charlyse, how she's coping in King's Landing, etc. I do hope you enjoy it and don't find it boring! Reviews mean the world to me :)**

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_"Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe."_

_- Voltaire_

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**296AL**

Charlyse stood knee-deep in the waves, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. The sea spray lashed across her face and the wild wind whipped her hair in every direction, but it was by the sea that Charlyse felt most alive. She might have been raised in King's Landing for the past seven years, but she would always be a Greyjoy at heart – and Greyjoys always yearned for the water.

"What is dead may never die," Charlyse murmured. She plunged her hands down into the foamy water and brought them up, cupped together with seawater between them. She splashed the water over her face, relishing the taste of salt upon her lips. "But rises again, harder and stronger."

If they caught her down by the sea praying to the Drowned God, they would punish her. By now, they expected her to have conformed to the Faith of the Seven – and publicly, Charlyse had. It shamed her to have done so, but it was better that than having hard lessons drilled into her about her beliefs and why they were wrong. So she pushed aside her anger and only prayed to her god, the _real_ god, in private.

Today, Charlyse's reason for escape was simple enough. At thirteen years old, she had just experienced her first moon's blood, meaning that she was a child no longer. It was inevitable – Charlyse had begun to grow breasts and her hips had started to widen, although her figure was still quite slender. She hadn't been the only one to notice.

Joffrey, awful boy that he was, had smirked and groped her breast through her dress at a feast recently. He had remarked on the fact that she was becoming a woman, and Charlyse had hit him for touching her. This sort of behaviour was intolerable of course, and she had been sent to her bed without any dinner for striking the prince.

In light of the girl's first bleeding, Cersei had begun discussing with Robert to make arrangements for Charlyse to be married. So far the most likely candidate was Quentyn Martell, eldest son of the Prince of Dorne and some four or five years older than Charlyse. It angered her that Cersei would be the one choosing her husband, where it should have been her own father.

Perhaps some thought seven years would be enough to earn forgiveness. In truth, Charlyse did not _hate_ any of the family that had become her own. But she very much disliked Cersei, she had as a child and she did now as a teenager. Well, perhaps she did hate Joffrey. But Robert and the younger children were more than tolerable.

"Charlyse."

She spun around, honey blonde hair flying across her face. Charlyse reached up with wet fingers to tuck it behind her ear, as if that could save it from the wind's fierce grasp. She was hardly surprised to see that it was Jaime Lannister waiting on the shore for her. The Queen's twin was always the one sent to find her when she went missing, and he always knew where to look.

Charlyse waded out of the water, her dress sticking to her calves. She would have to try and wring the moisture out of it soon enough. She was fully aware that she would likely be in trouble once again, but she hardly cared. Getting locked in her room was worth it for getting to escape to the sea by herself, if only for a small amount of time. She could almost pretend she was back on the Iron Islands. The sad thing was, having been in King's Landing longer than her own home, she was starting to forget what Pyke even looked like.

"Hand it over." Jaime held out his hand impatiently, and Charlyse heaved a sigh. She reached up and undid the Queen's necklace, shimmering with emeralds, and handed it over to Jaime.

It was part of being a Greyjoy: paying the iron price. Charlyse had no need to buy with golden dragons. So she committed small acts of defiance, if only to convince herself that she was still a Greyjoy. She stole trinkets, mainly from the Queen, but she was always discovered and forced to return them with an apology.

"Cersei isn't going to be pleased," Jaime stated, but he looked rather amused at how wild Charlyse looked, with her blonde hair windswept and her dress no doubt ruined from the knees down. "She wanted you ready for the feast and now there's little time."

"I can bathe and dress myself," Charlyse stated, braiding her unruly hair back as Jaime led her back up towards the Red Keep. In truth, she was very much dreading the feast for Joffrey's thirteenth name-day and wished she could just retire to her room. But Charlyse had quickly learned that it was very rare to have things exactly how she wanted them.

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"Seven hells woman, we are _not_ selling the girl off to a Martell," Robert grumbled as he took another deep gulp of wine. The idea was disagreeable to him, perhaps just because it was Cersei's and he made the decisions, not Cersei.

But then there was also the fact that it felt very much like his wife was trying to be rid of Charlyse. Robert had no desire to antagonize Balon by sending his daughter off down south without Balon having any say in it. Yes, Charlyse was their ward, but she was still Balon's child. Besides, the Martells were an even wilder bunch than the Greyjoys, if that was possible. What was the point in bringing the girl up with good manners if she was to be sent to a place like Dorne?

"Well, who would you have her married to?" Cersei spun around to face him. She was all ready for the feast, garbed in Lannister colours of red and gold. Of course. She was so proud of her heritage.

"The girl is merely thirteen," Robert stated, frowning deeply. "Just because she has bled once, it doesn't mean you have to ship her off to be married. She is young yet."

In all honesty, Cersei did not mind Charlyse. She had been annoyed by Robert's decision to bring the girl home as a ward initially, but as Charlyse had grown, her sometimes defiant nature reminded Cersei very much of herself as a girl. Yet at the same time, Cersei would have preferred that someone else was responsible for her – such as a husband. Quentyn Martell was said to be a quiet and dutiful boy, so she could hardly see Charlyse complaining.

What did disturb Cersei about the girl was Charlyse's unwavering faith in the Iron Islands, and its strange gods. Although in the open, Charlyse had accepted the Faith of the Seven, Cersei was no fool and had seen signs of her home and Drowned God worship.

"We could have her wed to Joffrey when she's older," Robert suggested gruffly, but Cersei took that as an insult. Joffrey was next in line to the throne, a prince. While Charlyse was from a dignified and great house, her people were often frowned upon and seen as uncivilised, untrustworthy. Whether she had grown up in the capital or not, an Iron Islander could hardly marry the next King of Westeros.

"I forbid it," Cersei said coldly.

"It isn't for you to forbid." Robert shifted in his chair, taking another deep gulp of wine. "There is no denying the girl is a pretty one. It would ease the tension between us and the Iron Islanders. You never know when we could use their ships."

"My son deserves better than some girl from the Iron Islands," Cersei hissed, sweeping from the room in haste. She wanted the final word on the conversation, and she had no wish to stay and listen to Robert's no doubt drunken ramblings. Charlyse was not a suitable wife for Joffrey, that was the end of the story.

The sound of lively music caught Cersei's ears as she headed down to the hall where her son's thirteenth name-day was taking place. Leaning over the bannister, it didn't surprise Cersei in the least to see that Charlyse was in the centre of the festivities. Although often withdrawn and wary, at feasts Charlyse seemed to lose herself in the celebrations, in the music and wine.

Cersei watched with an impassive expression as the girl laughed and spun, honey blonde hair whirling around her in a fan. She was a pretty girl, and she was young. Cersei envied her the latter, but knew that she was far more beautiful than Charlyse was – at least now. Time would only tell whether Charlyse's beauty would surpass Cersei's own.

_Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear._

It would not be her. It couldn't. Cersei observed the Greyjoy girl, spinning and giggling. This child of the Iron Islands would never become Queen. Cersei would make sure of it.

* * *

Joffrey watched as Charlyse sprawled into her seat, gasping for breath. Although in private she could often be sullen and resentful, it seemed there were things that could coax good spirit from her. Joffrey watched Charlyse's small breasts rise and fall with each sharp breath. He had only recently begun to notice women, Charlyse in particular. Joffrey supposed that was because she was his own age most likely.

"Would you like to dance with me, Charlyse?" Joffrey inquired, the question wiping the bright smile from the blonde girl's face. He had always bullied her as they had grown up, but it was only recently that Joffrey had become taller than Charlyse, stronger too. The bullying had turned from pinching and hitting to his attempts to grope and humiliate her. In truth Joffrey did not think he desired her, but rather desired her being afraid of him.

"Oh. No thank you."

"Yet you danced with Lancel." Joffrey sounded less than pleased. Charlyse was a silly girl, at the impressionable age where she would blush at compliments that men paid her.

"Lancel is kind to me, my prince," Charlyse stated curtly, leaving the rest unsaid. Joffrey was unkind to everyone, and she had no doubt that if she did agree to dance with him, he would do some kind of spiteful thing to her in an attempt to perturb her. It was just in his nature.

"Lancel knows you've had your moon's blood, as do the others," Joffrey said dismissively, his green eyes glittering as he observed her. "Perhaps he just wants to bed you. Would you like that, Charlyse?"

"I intend to save my maidenhead for the man I marry," Charlyse said curtly, pushing herself to her feet. She had not had enough wine for such a conversation. In fact, she'd never had enough wine to deal with Joffrey. "Excuse me, my prince. I wish to retire."

Joffrey watched with a frown as Charlyse swept from the hall, but her seat was quickly taken by his mother. Cersei poured herself some wine and by the sour expression on her face, it appeared she was displeased also. Only after a moment did she spare a glance at her son.

"I have seen the way you look at Charlyse. Do you find her beautiful?"

"She is somewhat attractive," Joffrey admitted. He had just turned thirteen and would not know what to do between a woman's legs, but his father talked about it enough that he had a general understanding.

"So you wish to lie with her?" Cersei asked quietly, tentatively probing. Her son shot her a sharp look. Cersei remembered being his age, and the things she and Jaime had done. Thirteen was not an innocent age by any account, and with a father like Robert who openly described his sexual encounters, it would not surprise Cersei if Joffrey had thoughts about bedding Charlyse.

"Why does it matter?" Joffrey demanded. He did not appreciate his mother's personal questions. She always did this, trying to find out what he was thinking, as though she could help him. "I understand that Father sleeps with other women. Are you worried that he might want to fuck her when she's older, Mother?"

Cersei visibly flinched at that and lapsed into silence. Joffrey knew how she hated it when anyone spoke of Robert's conquests, and how she wanted to pretend they didn't happen. Yet there was no denying the fact that the King had several bastards.

"No. That's not what worries me at all."

* * *

"Do you think I'll ever be able to visit my family?" Charlyse draped her arms either side of the tub, sinking down further into the scented water. It wasn't as wild and untameable as the sea, but any water was welcome. She tilted her head back, soothed by the feeling of her servant Myra pouring hot water over her blonde hair.

"I don't know, my lady," Myra replied, setting the jug down. She was perhaps ten years older than Charlyse, and pretty in a sort of ordinary way. She lathered scented oils through her lady's hair as Charlyse closed her eyes and smiled. "Robert Baratheon is a good friend to Eddard Stark, where your brother Theon is being kept as a ward. It would not surprise me if you were to one day visit the north."

Charlyse sighed as Myra washed the oils out of her hair. King's Landing was swelteringly hot, and she wasn't sure that she would be able to take the frigid cold of the north. How was Theon able to cope with it? Yet they had been away from their father and sister for seven years now. Theon would be accustomed to it by now.

Myra handed Charlyse a towel, but the blonde girl couldn't help but catch sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her septa always told her that it was vain to stare at one's image in the mirror, and that one liked vanity, but Charlyse thought that a little look every now and then didn't go astray.

She was not an overly tall girl, only a few inches over five feet. Her hair, although damp, hung down nearly to her waist. When dry, it was the colour of honey – perhaps Charlyse's greatest vanity. It was her body that intrigued her, for only recently had it begun to change. The slight curves were new to her, the small breasts and subtle hint of hips. She would be a proper woman soon. Catching Myra watching her, Charlyse turned away from the mirror.

"The Queen will have me married off soon."

"I don't think so," Myra stated mildly, beginning to braid Charlyse's wet hair. "You are but thirteen, my lady. The Queen herself wasn't married until she was some years older than you. Your moon's blood doesn't mean you must marry right away."

Charlyse couldn't help but feel relief at that. She thought she was far too young to marry and bear a child. She would be more than happy to wait another few years, but she also couldn't help but worry about _who_ she would marry. It wasn't a man twice her age she worried about, it was that she desperately hoped she would not have to wed Joffrey. In truth, she couldn't imagine anything more horrible.


	3. Warden of the North

**Chapter Two: Warden of the North**

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**A/N: I wanted to update sooner, but uni has been kicking my ass. So this chapter is a little on the short side, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Of course next chapter is going to be Charlyse arriving in the capital and meeting the Starks ;) **

**You guys have been so amazing - almost 120 follows, over 60 favourites and over 40 reviews, just for two chapters. Let's see how much better you can do with this one! Please review :)**

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**298AL**

She haunted Cersei's dreams, a blonde ghost that refused to go away. There could be no denying, in Cersei's mind, that Charlyse Greyjoy was the girl her prophecy had referred. In the girl's younger years, Cersei had scoffed at such thoughts and dismissed her paranoia. Charlyse was a sweet young thing, but no great beauty – and Cersei's own beauty was something of legend.

But now, at fifteen years old, Charlyse could no longer be called a child. The sweet, shy little girl had almost completed her transformation into a lovely young woman. Her slim figure had morphed into full breasts, good hips and a slender waist. Cersei did not envy Charlyse her youth, for with it came naivety. But she did believe more than ever than Charlyse was the one who would take everything away from her.

Cersei had made no verbal attempts to marry Charlyse off, but she had seen the men looking and it caused her bitterness to grow like a weed. Robert's brother Renly often commented on what a beauty Charlyse had become. Lancel attempted to avert his eyes, but Cersei could tell that he desired Charlyse. Joffrey had his own perverse interest, although the Queen thought it rather differed from that of other men.

It wasn't just physical beauty they admired, and Cersei knew it. Charlyse radiated energy and enthusiasm. Despite her tense relationship with the Queen, around others, the Greyjoy girl didn't hold back. She seemed to glow when she laughed and smiled, things Cersei did all too rarely.

Perhaps she wasn't the one. Perhaps Cersei was wrong. But the Queen was ever alert, and she knew that if the day would come when she had to crush Charlyse Greyjoy, she would do so without a second's hesitation.

* * *

Jon Arryn had been a good man. For most, that would not necessarily be a thing worthy of remembering, but Charlyse found that there were far too few good men in the capital. In a rat's nest like King's Landing, good men such as Jon Arryn were a rare occurrence. So when the bells had tolled, their mournful peal ringing throughout the Red Keep, Charlyse knew that the Hand of the King had finally succumbed to the sickness that had been ailing him.

Now would come the time for Robert Baratheon to choose a new Hand, although there had been whispers about court since Jon had first fallen ill. Robert's oldest and closest friend, Eddard Stark, all the way up in the frozen north that was Winterfell. It sent thrills of delight through Charlyse, because she knew that Theon was Eddard's ward. If the King really did travel north to ask Eddard to be his Hand…Charlyse would get to see her brother again.

The notion excited her greatly, but she did not want to get hopeful only to find out that it was not going to be the case. Excitement was for children like Tommen in any case. Charlyse was a woman now, fifteen years old. If she looked forward to something, she masked her longing with indifference. Therefore, it was only when Charlyse was summoned by the King that she allowed herself to feel anticipation.

"Sit, child," Robert grumbled, and Charlyse took a seat, placing her hands demurely in her lap. For Robert Baratheon, the man who had not raised her any differently to his own children – with what little input he had in raising, anyway – Charlyse was content to play the obedient ward. For Cersei Lannister, who seemed to delight at any opportunity to make snide comments at her…well, things were different.

"I know you must be upset about Lord Arryn, your Grace." Charlyse watched as Robert poured himself some wine. She knew that Eddard and Robert had grown up as Jon Arryn's wards. He had been more like a father to Robert than Steffon. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Do you know how many people have said that?" Robert scoffed, offering to pour Charlyse some wine. She shook her head, if only because she saw how often Cersei drank wine and it repulsed her. "Every lord and lady I've had the misfortune to stumble across since his death has said that. Yes, it's a sad thing. Yes, he was like a father to me. But I'm not moping about it. I'm looking to the future."

Charlyse sincerely hoped that future did not have anything to do with her and Joffrey. Robert had made several suggestions about it over the years, but Cersei had always retaliated vehemently. For once, Charlyse could say that she supported the Queen. There was no way in the seven hells that she wanted to be Joffrey's wife, even if it did mean she would be Queen of Westeros.

It wasn't as though she had never thought about it. Many Greyjoys were proud and fond of power. Although Charlyse was certainly the former, she was not so sure about the latter. She had imagined how she would feel as a Queen – and much as she would no doubt enjoy the power, it would not be worth having to suffer Joffrey as a husband.

"Have you picked out someone to be the Hand?"

"Have you ever visited the north, Charlyse?" Robert asked, taking another deep gulp of his wine. He didn't let her answer the question, because she didn't need to. "Bloody cold place. Your brother Theon though…he lives up there, in Winterfell with the Starks. Hopefully by now he's learned to suffer the cold."

"Are we going north?" Charlyse asked cautiously, although her heart leaped. She was going to see Theon again, after all these years. He would not recognise her now. She had been only a child when they had been parted, and now he was a man and she practically a woman.

"I intend to make Ned my Hand," Robert nodded slowly, leaning back and watching the delighted grin spread across Charlyse's face. "I know you have no interest in my son. I don't blame you for that. So we'll see what the north has to offer you, eh?"

Did he intend to marry her off to a man of the north, to a Stark? Charlyse couldn't think of anything her father would hate more, but she kept her silence. The eldest of the Stark children, Robb, was only a year or two older than her. Even at fifteen, she was still in no great hurry to be wed. From what she knew, even her older sister Yara remained unmarried, and Yara would now be twenty-three.

"Go, get your things packed." Robert shooed her, but Charlyse knew by no there was no malice behind it. "Remember what I said. It's bloody cold up there so find something warm."

* * *

Robert had been right. The further north they ventured, the more crisp the air became, until one morning Charlyse popped her head out of the wheelhouse and exhaled a visible fog. She had tried to keep herself busy during the journey, but the truth was that there wasn't much to occupy her for a month. If there was one thing Charlyse loved to do, it was dance. But they were out in the countryside, and there were no bards to play the music.

Nonetheless, Charlyse could not profess disappointment. Every day they drew closer to Winterfell, and her excitement bubbled up until she thought she just might explode. Nothing could bring her down, not Cersei's constant complaints or Joffrey's spiteful moods.

The night before they reached Winterfell, Charlyse was extremely restless. She would be seeing Theon tomorrow, along with the Starks. Charlyse vaguely remembered Eddard, although she had been young when she had last encountered him. As she warmed her hands over the fire and happily hugged her cloak tighter around her, Charlyse didn't think that there was anything that could possibly bring her spirit down.

"Are you cold, child?"

Charlyse looked up to see Cersei had joined her by the fireside. She lapsed into silence, a little unsure what to say. It was clear to everyone in the royal entourage that the Queen disapproved of the journey, and of the Starks in general. There was no love lost between the Starks and the Lannisters, something Charlyse knew would cause tension upon their arrival in Winterfell.

"A little," Charlyse admitted. The weather in the north was very different from King's Landing, although she had no doubts that she would be able to acclimatise to the cold.

"You must be excited to see your brother." Cersei leaned back, green eyes glittering in the firelight. Charlyse could not help but wonder why the Queen had suddenly decided to talk to her, considering that usually Cersei could not care less about her.

"I am," Charlyse said carefully, taking care to keep her tone neutral. Was it possible that Cersei was considering her staying in the north? Charlyse wasn't certain how she would feel about that. She would be with her brother of course, but she had not seen him in years, and had become accustomed to the warmth and people of King's Landing.

Cersei offered her a fleeting smile and got to her feet once again.

"I'm sure you will be glad when we arrive on the morrow."

* * *

In truth, Theon was not certain how to feel about his sister arriving in Winterfell. It had been a long time since he had last seen her, and she had only been a small child. She was now fifteen years old, a woman grown. Thinking about how much she would have changed frightened him in some ways.

"Isn't your sister a ward of Robert Baratheon?" Jon Snow questioned, taking a break in a sparring match with his half-brother Robb Stark. Jon was panting heavily, fog escaping his mouth with each breath. "Doesn't that mean she'll be accompanying them north?"

"Careful, Snow." It was slightly ironic even to Theon, that he could be so lecherous towards women in Winterfell, yet when it concerned his sister even the mention of her was enough to cause him suspicion. "She's far more high-born than you. If I see you near her…"

"Relax, Theon." Robb frowned, sheathing his blunted blade and walking over to the tense pair. "Jon has no interest in a girl he has never met. He was only curious about her. What was her name? Charlyse?"

"Yes," Theon ground out. He didn't like how his sister was suddenly a topic of conversation. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable. It would be the first time in nine years he had seen his sister, and he wasn't sure yet how he would react to seeing her. What if he didn't recognise her, and she had to be pointed out to him?

"Isn't she our age?" Jon asked, sitting down on the steps and stretching his legs out.

"Younger." Theon shook his head. "Two years younger, she's about fifteen now. No doubt the King has her betrothed to some lord twice her age."

The only things Theon had heard about Charlyse were rumours, both good and bad. They said she was pretty and liked to dance. They said she caused the Queen grief and had likely been bedded by Robert Baratheon. They said she held to the Drowned God. They said she had taken up the Faith of the Seven. It was hard to keep up with what was true and what was not.

Theon wondered if his sister was more like Sansa, dutiful and graceful, or Arya, wild and stubborn. She was his blood, but he barely remembered a thing about her. Just a small blonde child who used to follow him and Yara around, tugging at Yara's leg. Theon remembered more of Yara, but he supposed that was because she was older.

Would he be permitted to accompany the Stark family to King's Landing if Ned did become the Hand? He had grown accustomed to the north, spending almost half of his life in Winterfell. Yet it was not only the place he had become attached to, but also the people. It would be nice to get to know Charlyse against, but what if he did not like the person she had become? The capital was very different from the north, and the King was very different from Ned.


	4. So Cynical

**Chapter Three: So Cynical**

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**A/N: I know I keep saying this, but your response to this story is nothing short of amazing. 69 reviews, over 80 favourites and 150 follows. I feel so privileged to have you all as readers, and I'm so thrilled you're enjoying Charlyse's story this much. **

**I do have some reviewers asking me to update sooner. The truth is that while I try my best, you have to remember that I also have several other stories I'm writing, I'm a full-time uni student and I work. So please, be patient. I try and update at least once a month, hopefully more often than that when holidays come around.**

**So this chapter Charlyse meets Theon again...and Robb for the first time ;) Please don't be afraid to let me know what you think, be it positive or constructive criticism. Reviews are amazing as always! I'm hoping we get close to 100, but that's probably Targaryen madness ;) Nonetheless, enjoy!**

* * *

Charlyse caught her breath at the sight of Winterfell's tower rising out of the fog, a delighted smile pulling at her lips. She could feel her palms becoming clammy and her heart thudding in her chest, but they were both good signs. She welcomed nervousness, just as she welcomed the prospect of finally being reunited with her brother. It had been such a long time that she couldn't even begin to picture what Theon would look like.

"Sit down, child." Cersei frowned at the sight of Charlyse sticking her head outside the wheelhouse. "We can't have you half-hanging out of wheelhouse upon your entry to Winterfell. That wouldn't look impressive, now would it?"

Begrudgingly, Charlyse had to admit that in this instance, the Queen was right. She drew herself away from the wonderful sight of Winterfell and sat down beside Myrcella. She took a deep breath and stared down at her shaking hands. She had to appear cool and confident in front of her brother, as though the years had changed nothing instead of everything.

The wheelhouse came to a sudden halt, and Charlyse peered out of the window without meaning to. There was a group of richly-dressed people standing before Robert Baratheon, rising up from the dirt as they had been kneeling before him. Charlyse's stomach did a flip as she recognised the man that Robert was grinning at currently.

_Eddard Stark._

Licking her dry lips, Charlyse realised that the others must be his family – and Theon would be among them! Her eyes searched for her older brother, but she could not pick him. The elegant auburn-haired woman beside Ned could be none other than Lady Catelyn…and beside them, their children. Charlyse's eyes lingered on the pretty Sansa, only a few years younger than herself, and the handsome dark-haired young man who couldn't be anyone other than Robb.

"Charlyse." Cersei was stepping out of the wheelhouse, and Charlyse smoothed down her dress, swallowed the lump in her throat and followed. She had to appear noble and dignified as she stepped out, as though even the knowledge that she was about to see her brother again could not shake her.

Robert made no introductions, and Charlyse was slightly crestfallen. However when he and Ned disappeared to visit the crypt – for reasons that there beyond Charlyse – she spotted him. Theon stood behind the Starks, speaking with a dark-eyed young man who Charlyse guessed to be Ned's bastard son, Jon Snow. Her mouth went dry and she raised her hand, but quickly desisted upon receiving a cold look from Cersei.

"You must all come inside, you must be frozen." Catelyn stepped forward, offering them all a warm smile. Her gaze raked over the group. "Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you. Surely this can't be your daughter, Myrcella?"

Charlyse was mortified when she realised that Catelyn was in fact referring to her. Her cheeks flamed red and she pressed her lips together, shaking her head vehemently. Cersei laughed at Lady Stark's mistake, but her green eyes remained cold and Charlyse could tell that she was insulted.

"Oh gods, no. This is my ward, Charlyse Greyjoy." Cersei turned and gestured to Myrcella, who had the good grace to offer Lady Stark a small nod of her head. "_This_ is Myrcella."

"Ah, Theon's sister." Catelyn nodded, and Charlyse's eyes caught a small flicker of movement – Theon had stepped forward ever so slightly. She was unable to help herself, and she smiled a little forcibly at him. He was a man of twenty-one now. It was almost unbelievable how much he had grown in the years that had passed.

* * *

"Is that your sister?" Jon Snow muttered in disbelief, noticing the blonde girl at Cersei's side who was surely too old to be Myrcella. She was certainly a pretty thing – long blonde hair, wide eyes, full lips and a slender body with pleasing curves. Not that he would ever say such things to Theon, for he would be risking a punch.

"I…I think it is." Theon sounded uncertain as the royal party began to split, formality melting into cordiality as Catelyn Stark show them to the castle. He could barely even recognise the attractive blonde, who appeared to be in her mid-teens. This was his _sister_? He remembered a child, but Charlyse was far from that now. As the blonde girl approached him, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Theon?" The girl queried tentatively, and it became clear that she did not recognise him either. When he nodded, she looked ready to embrace him, but at the same time restraining herself from doing so. Whatever their blood relation, they were strangers. Instead, Charlyse offered her hand. Theon appeared baffled, but Charlyse glanced pointedly downwards towards her outstretched hand. Theon took it.

"Charlyse Greyjoy."

"Theon Greyjoy," Theon replied, giving her hand a firm shake and trying to dismiss how ridiculous it was to be exchanging a civil handshake with his younger sister. The blonde girl appeared to be satisfied and somewhat amused, before she turned her attention on Jon.

"You are Jon Snow, correct?"

Jon shifted his feet awkwardly, and Theon could not help but smirk. There weren't exactly an abundance of pretty girls around Winterfell, and Jon looked quite uncomfortable with meeting a member of Theon's family. There was no malice in Charlyse's tone regarding Jon's bastard name, however.

"I am, my lady."

"I'm not a lady of anything," Charlyse corrected with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "Just a ward in King's Landing. It's only Charlyse."

Her gaze shifted, and Theon turned to see the Queen beckoning her. Offering the two young men an apologetic smile, Charlyse trudged through the frosted dirt without another word. Theon watched her go, still unable to comprehend that she was in fact his sister. Seven hells, nine years seemed to have changed everything.

"So that's your sister," Jon stated the obvious as Charlyse disappeared inside, and Theon turned on the bastard boy, feeling an odd protective instinct. He may not remember the girl, but she was still his younger sister.

"If I even catch you looking at her the wrong way…"

* * *

Charlyse was eagerly anticipating the celebrations as she straightened her dress and inspected her reflection, ruminating over the afternoon's occurrences. She had been reunited with her brother, but it hadn't been the happy and emotional reunion that had played out in her head. Instead it had been crisp and almost formal. Not that she minded – she did not remember the man in front of her, so familiarity would have made her uncomfortable.

The dress she wore had in fact been made for Myrcella, however the measurements had been wrong and so it was too big for the young princess. However it was also slightly too small for Charlyse – it was tight around her hips and her breasts strained at the laces. She hoped that she didn't look like a whore. Self-conscious once more, she adjusted the dress again, taking care to try and minimise the amount of cleavage on display.

Once happy with her appearance, Charlyse fixed her hair and then decided it wouldn't do to take any more time preparing herself – she was already late for the feast. By the time she hurried into the great hall, everyone was already sitting down to eat, and the bards were already playing. Mortified at her tardiness, Charlyse's eyes sought out an empty seat, hoping to find one beside Theon – however, there was only one on the far side of Robb Stark.

Sighing heavily, Charlyse tried not to be too disappointed as she crossed over and sat beside the heir of Winterfell. Robb glanced at her and offered her a pleasant smile. He was no doubt a handsome young man, with Tully blue eyes and thick, dark curls. It seemed he was quite kind too, for he immediately leaned across to speak to her.

"You are Theon's sister, aren't you?"

"I am," Charlyse admitted, wondering where this topic of conversation was leading. Her eyes drifted across the table to Cersei's tight expression as she watched Robert flirt openly with a barmaid. "Charlyse will do fine. You are Robb Stark, aren't you?"

"Sorry." Robb took another sip of his wine. "I only meant that…well, you don't seem much like him."

"Oh?" Charlyse's interest was piqued now. Robb had grown up with Theon as she had not. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew more about Theon than she did. Brushing her blonde hair back from her face, Charlyse tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean? What is he like?"

"Well," Robb was at a loss for words, not quite knowing what to say. He had to be careful, because he was speaking to Theon's younger sister. He didn't want to drive the girl away from her brother because of what she might hear from him, but it wasn't in his nature to lie. "Theon is quite fond of girls."

"You mean he sleeps with them," Charlyse stated calmly, her eyes focused on Robert Baratheon as she uttered the words. She knew Robb was trying to gloss over the issue, but Charlyse was no fool. Growing up in the capital meant that she was very aware of things. Perhaps it should surprise her, but it didn't. Her other older brothers had been quite notorious with women also.

Robb sighed heavily. He was fully aware that Theon had been greatly anticipating the arrival of his sister. It would not be fair or kind of him to spread rumours about Theon before Charlyse had really had the opportunity to speak with her brother. He raked a hand through his dark curls, eyes focused intently on the blonde girl in front of him.

"I think it would be wiser that you speak with Theon. It's not my place to condemn him."

* * *

Theon was practising archery the next morning when his sister found him. He had not actively avoided her during the feast the night before, but she had been spending a lot of time around Robb Stark, and he had figured it best that he leave the two be. He heard her boots crunching through the dirt, and spun to face her. The blonde girl offered him a small smile.

"Jon told me that I might be able to find you out here."

"Oh." Theon set down his bow. In truth, he wasn't sure what to make of Charlyse. The girl he had known, the child he had left behind, was nearly a woman now. It frightened and saddened him, to have missed out on that much of her life. She was not married yet, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would be soon. "Was there something you wished to discuss?"

"Yes, Theon." Charlyse's tone was fraught with frustration. "It's been nine years since we last saw each other. Don't you think that gives us rather a lot to talk about?"

"I don't see how it matters, to be honest," Theon muttered, hating the words that were coming out of his mouth but knowing that they were the truth in any case. "In a month or so, you'll just be returning to King's Landing in any case. Then who knows how long it will be until I see you again."

"So it isn't worth trying to get to know me?" Charlyse's grey-blue eyes flickered with hurt, and Theon immediately regretted his words. That hadn't been what he had meant at all. Sighing heavily, Theon sat down on the steps and glanced sharply at the blonde.

"I don't know, alright? I don't know how I should act around you. I don't know how to be a brother to you."

"You could try again," Charlyse suggested softly. Theon examined her, his younger sister. They had been forced apart and now he was making no effort to do the best he could with the limited amount of time they had together again. Pushing himself to his feet, Theon crossed over and slowly, tentatively, drew the blonde girl into an embrace.

At first Charlyse tensed slightly and he thought he might have made a mistake. But then she curled her fingers in his shirt like she'd done as a child, and hugged him back, and Theon knew he had made the right decision. After a few moments, Charlyse drew back with a smile about her lips.

"Robb's told me some things about you."

Theon groaned. "No doubt that I sleep with any woman I lay eyes upon. You know what Ironborn are like, Charlyse. I seek encounters with women, but I'm not desperate."

"Of course not," Charlyse responded teasingly, a grin spreading across her face. Theon couldn't help but laugh, and it felt for all the world like the nine years they had been apart never existed.

* * *

Once the men had left on their hunting party, Charlyse decided to seek out the Queen. Her hands were clammy and there was no doubting that, once again, she was nervous. But it was a question that had to be asked. Cersei did not like her in any case, why would she object if Charlyse asked to stay in the North? Surely Robert didn't think that after nine years, the two Greyjoy children being together would result in some kind of plot.

Charlyse swallowed any trepidation and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, she heard the sound of voices coming from within Cersei's chambers. It sounded like the Queen was arguing with someone – a man. It couldn't be Robert, for he had accompanied Ned and the others on the hunt.

"…next thing he will want to bed _her_," Cersei was saying, her voice full of bitterness. Charlyse shifted ever so slightly so that she could see the Queen through the door, which was slightly ajar. She would have felt bad about spying, if she hadn't done it several dozen times back in the capital. Not just on the Queen, though. "You've seen how he acts, Jaime. I can't stand him. He probably slept with that stupid whore, you know."

So it was Jaime and Cersei. Charlyse could see the Queen standing by the fire, taking a gulp of her wine. The blonde girl knew Cersei was referring to the feast just the other night, and Robert's open affections with the women there. She wanted to pity Cersei, but somehow she couldn't find it in her heart to do so.

"Don't be ridiculous, she's just a child," Jaime replied, his tone scathing. "I understand what you mean, but you're getting paranoid. She isn't Lyanna, Cersei. Far from it."

Charlyse frowned, wondering who the twins were talking about. Who was it that Cersei was so certain Robert wanted to bed. A shadow passed the door and the blonde jumped back, only to press closer once again upon noticing that Jaime had gone over to stand beside Cersei.

"What would you know?" Cersei's tone was pure poison. "Perhaps you want her, too. She was mistaken for Myrcella. It seems the Starks can pass her off as a Lannister, what's stopping you?"

Charlyse clamped her hands over her mouth. Cersei was talking about _her_? But that was just ridiculous, Robert did not want to bed her and had never made any indication of it. The thought revolted Charlyse, as did the accusation of Jaime desiring her also. Jaime grabbed Cersei's arms and spun her to face him, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders.

"Don't be a fool, woman. You're the only one I want."

Then Jaime leaned in and kissed Cersei passionately. Charlyse froze where she stood, unable to believe what she was witnessing. This was more than just an act of sibling affection. Jaime slid his arms around Cersei's waist and pulled her close against him, but the Queen shoved him away. Jaime frowned and Cersei shook her head.

"Not here. Are you stupid? They'll see us."

"They're all out hunting," Jaime drawled, "No one will see us. But if you're so concerned, I know just the place."

Realising that the twins were about to exit the room, Charlyse quickly hurried down the corridor and hid herself behind the nearest open door. She heard them walking down the hallway and took a deep breath, thanking the Drowned God that they had not caught her. She was not quite sure entirely what she had witnessed, but it had been nothing good. Was it possible that Cersei and Jaime were in some kind of sexual relationship? The thought made her feel ill.

"What are you doing in my room?"

Charlyse just about jumped out of her skin. She had been so eager to hide from the twins that she hadn't even looked where she had gone. Turning around, she bit her lip and felt her cheeks heating up in excruciating embarrassment. Robb Stark was sprawled back on his bed, setting aside a book he had clearly been reading before her intrusion. He also was not wearing a shirt, something Charlyse found herself acutely aware of.

_The Storm God truly hates me today…_


	5. Krakens

**Chapter Four: Krakens**

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**A/N: Thank you everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed! Your support does mean a lot to me. However, there are some reviewers who have been very insistent upon me updating, and then asking if I ever will. It's been less than a month since my last update, I can understand if you're looking forward to a new chapter, but please don't get impatient with me. I have a lot of stories, and a life outside of writing. If I was going to stop writing this story, you would all be the first people to know about it.**

**With that being said, please enjoy this chapter. There's a bit more Robb/Charlyse, but I'm a little concerned about the pace. Are things moving too fast? Let me know your thoughts!**

**Also if you haven't already, please check out the Game of Thrones Summer Awards 2014 that I'm hosting. There's a link on my profile, and I would love it if you would all go and vote!**

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"Robb," Charlyse stammered, her mind working furiously to try and come up with some kind of excuse as to why she could possibly be in his room. He looked slightly amused at her embarrassment, eyebrows raised and Tully blue eyes gleaming as he inspected her. Forcing a shy smile, she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry to walk in on you like this."

"Are you lost?" Robb inquired, something that Charlyse eagerly pounced on. Relief flooded through her as she nodded her head vigorously, forcing back the urge to laugh. Lost, of course she was lost. What better excuse could there be in a place as unfamiliar as Winterfell?

"Yes, I am," Charlyse said hastily, "I was looking for my room but accidentally stumbled upon yours…I thought you would have accompanied your lord father and the King on the hunt?"

"I did," Robb admitted, raking a hand through his dark curls. Noticing her gaze trailing over his bare chest, he grabbed a shirt from his bed and pulled it over his head. As he was doing so, Charlyse bit down on her lip, pondering on the matter of Jaime and Cersei. It troubled her, yet she knew there was no one she could speak to about the matter. "But I returned to spend time with my brother, Bran. He's feeling put out about not being to accompany us."

"I completely understand." Charlyse permitted herself a small smile. "I was always the youngest child, so I was the one chasing after my older siblings, desperate to be included."

Robb offered her a warm smile, and Charlyse's stomach fluttered. She hadn't ever met a boy like him. In the capital, the young men were all conniving, they all wanted something from her. Whether it was to wed her for power or bed her for some other kind of gain, none of them were kind merely because they could be. Yet Charlyse was glad of Robb's kindness, glad that the north was so far away from King's Landing that the manipulation and scandal did not take place in Winterfell.

"Perhaps you could help me find him. He likes to climb a lot. No doubt I'll find halfway up one of the castle walls."

"Of course." Charlyse grinned. As a former rebellious child, she knew all too well about the wilful habits of the young. She followed Robb out of his room and accompanied him outside, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the bright sunlight. She blinked a few times and turned to Robb, who was shielding his eyes and attempting to locate his younger brother.

"We should split up," Robb suggested, gesturing towards an old tower nearby that looked to Charlyse like the perfect climbing place for a young boy. "You can start over there and I'll patrol the main wall, if you like."

"Alright," Charlyse agreed, gathering her skirts and heading over to the old tower. Her eyes scanned over the bricks as she approached, but there was no sign of a small boy climbing them. She sighed and raked a hand through her hair. At least she could be glad that Robb wasn't at all suspicious about her sudden intrusion of his room.

A small dog bounded over to Charlyse, barking insistently. After a close look, she realised it wasn't a dog at all, but one of the direwolves that the Stark children kept. Cersei had been talking about them over breakfast, calling them beasts and saying one day one of the animals was bound to savage someone. But looking at the little thing now, Charlyse couldn't see it savaging anybody.

She knelt down in front of the direwolf, tentatively reaching out to stroke its fur. The direwolf allowed the gesture, then turned its head. Charlyse followed the direction of the creature's gaze, and her entire body froze. She felt as though all the warmth had drained from her as she saw Bran lying on the ground only a few feet away.

Pushing herself to her feet, Charlyse followed the small direwolf over. At first, she had thought Bran was perhaps sleeping in the sun. But when she saw the angle of his legs, the paleness of his skin, Charlyse fell to her knees by his side and screamed.

Was he dead? Frantically, Charlyse checked for a pulse, as the direwolf circled them both concernedly. Her warm fingers found a pulse in the crook of Bran's neck, but that didn't stop Charlyse from worrying. She found that her hands were shaking as she reached out to Bran, unsure where to touch him. Was shaking him a good idea? It seemed as though he had fallen, as though any part of his body might be broken.

"Bran!" Robb's shout made Charlyse turn and glance over her shoulder. The dark-haired boy's entire face was full of alarm. He must have heard her scream, Charlyse surmised, as Robb sank to his knees beside her. His blue eyes were wide with horror as he took in the sight of his immobile younger brother. "No, he can't have fallen…he's never fallen…"

Charlyse reached out tentatively, placing a hand on Robb's shoulder. There was such grief in his face that she couldn't help herself. He needed comfort, and she was the only one there with him. Despite not knowing him awfully well, she knew that she wanted to get to know him. Robb stroked his brother's hair back from his pale face, and Charlyse drew away from Robb and staggered to her feet, her knees shaking.

"I'll go and get your mother," she informed him, before she hiked up her skirts and ran towards Winterfell, heart racing in her chest as she desperately sought out Catelyn.

* * *

There was no obvious suspicion about Bran's fall. Why should there be? Children fell when climbing all the time. Although Bran had never fallen in the past, there were always firsts. Yet Robb was utterly convinced that his younger brother could not have fallen of his own accord, and Charlyse found herself believing him. Wasn't it odd, that Cersei and Jaime had gone to find somewhere private, and then Bran had fallen?

Of course, it could just have been her overactive imagination coming to the wrong conclusions. But as Charlyse watched Robb pace and Catelyn fret, she was starting to think that her suspicions might not have been exaggerated after all. When Theon and the others entered, Charlyse immediately hurried over to her brother and pressed her face against his shoulder.

For the first split second, it was awkward. But then Theon melted flawlessly into the role of big brother, and the fact that they hadn't seen each other in years didn't matter. She was his little sister and she was distressed about something. Theon patted Charlyse's back and she took a deep, shaky breath before drawing back to glance at Bran.

"I wanted to talk to you in private," she murmured.

Theon nodded, gently taking her arm and leading her out of the room. Charlyse made eye contact with Robb briefly, before she averted her gaze. She didn't want to see the pain and anguish in his gaze, as Maester Luwin had informed them gravely that he was not certain whether Bran would live. Taking another breath to try and keep her emotions in check, Charlyse followed Theon out into the corridor.

"I'm thinking of staying in Winterfell." The words come out like a flood. She had no time or effort for procrastination. Theon raised his eyebrows, appearing stunned by what she had said.

"You mean…permanently?"

"Yes, permanently." Charlyse darted a glance at the door of Bran's room. "The people here are different, Theon. You've lived here for a time so you don't know it. But in King's Landings…it's like shark-infested waters, and they're all waiting for you to jump in. I don't know if I can go back to that after finding such truly good people here."

"You know that Ned has been asked to be Robert's Hand," Theon reminded her.

"But now Bran has been injured," Charlyse explained. Even Lady Arryn had returned to the Vale from time to time, along with her son. Lysa had never felt that King's Landing was like a home to her, and now Charlyse understood why she had fled with Robin. They were safer in the Vale most likely. "I can't see them bringing him to King's Landing even if he did live. His legs have been damaged beyond repair."

"Talk to Robert then," Theon said, but Charlyse was disappointed that his voice didn't hold more excitement. Perhaps she was childish in hoping that things could be as they once had been. However she bit her lip and nodded, trying to find the courage that was needed to speak to a man like Robert Baratheon about changing his mind.

* * *

Charlyse had to keep reminding herself that she was made of iron as she approached Robert Baratheon's rooms. Jaime was the Kingsguard on duty, and he raised his eyebrows upon seeing the blonde girl striding determinedly down the corridor. Charlyse could only hope that Robert didn't have any whores with him. It was an awkward occurrence that she had happened upon several times in the past.

"I take it you wish to speak with the King."

"He's not…busy?" Charlyse questioned, earning a chuckle and shake of the head from Jaime. She inspected him critically. She had never particularly _liked_ the Kingslayer, however she disliked him even more considering the behaviour he had exhibited with the Queen. Taking a deep breath, Charlyse pushed open the door to the King's rooms, drawing herself up to full height and stepping inside.

Robert was reading over a letter as he turned to face Charlyse. She remembered Cersei's hostile words, her suspicions that Robert wanted to bed Charlyse. But there was no lust in the King's eyes when he looked at her. He raised his eyebrows, and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Charlyse. What can I do for you? You look worried."

"I worry about Brandon Stark," Charlyse admitted, clasping her hands in lap demurely, but then looking up at Robert with sharp eyes. "But that isn't why I've come. I have a…request to make."

"A request?" Robert sounded a mixture of surprised and amused as he inspected her. "Go on."

"I wish to remain in Winterfell." The words passed through her lips, leaving her feeling a sense of relief. There, she had said what she needed to. She could only hope that Robert would accept, for if he rejected her request, Charlyse wasn't sure how she would feel. "I know that you intended for Theon and I to be raised separately, but we are adults now. I know you have arranged a betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey…"

"Ah, I see." Robert pulled up a chair and sat across from her. "Is it marriage you want, child? You've nothing to fear. I've arranged a betrothal for you already."

"You…have?" Charlyse's heart leapt and suddenly, naively, she believed that perhaps Robert had proposed a match between herself and Robb Stark. Then she could stay in Winterfell, and get to know the boy better before they were wed. Marrying Robb was not Charlyse's ultimate fantasy, but it would certainly be a dream, a lot better than when she had feared she would be married to Joffrey.

"You will wed my brother Renly when you are sixteen."

Charlyse's heart sank. She knew that she shouldn't be so selfish. Renly was Lord of Storm's End, which was no small castle by any means. But – he did not seem as though he would be interested in her, nor her in him. She was being ridiculous, she knew that. Wives did not have to love or care about their husbands at all. They had one job: to bear them sons.

"If your Grace insists," Charlyse replied in little more than a whisper. She didn't know where her strength had gone, the desire to fight against this betrothal and insist that she stayed in the North. Yet Robert had always been fair to her, where Cersei had only ever wished to see her gone. To anger Robert would mean to have no one to take her side.

Pushing herself to her feet, Charlyse departed Robert's rooms and tried to ignore her clammy hands. She had no right to feel entitled to stay in Winterfell, or to anything for that matter. She was the daughter of a traitor, and she had been lucky that Robert had decided to put her entire family to death. After all, everyone remembered what had happened to the Targaryens.

It looked to Charlyse as though she would spend the remainder of her days in the south. In King's Landing for a time, while she got to know Renly. Then in Storm's End, giving Renly sons and most likely never seeing her brother or the rest of her family again. She tried to look at the bright side – but the more she thought of Robb, the more she struggled to see it.

* * *

Over the next few days, Charlyse hardly left Robb's side. She understood that the Starks were still upset over what had happened to Bran – and rightly so. Yet the more Charlyse began to connect with Robb, the more she felt herself yearning to stay. How she wished that Robert hadn't chosen to betroth her to his brother. Yet the King got what he wanted, and even Charlyse wasn't bold enough to attempt to change his mind.

"I want to show you something," Robb said about a week after Bran's fall, leading Charlyse down into a greenhouse crowded with plants – fruit, vegetables. Her blue-grey eyes widened, as she had never seen anything so vibrant and colourful in cold north.

"This is amazing," she breathed, turning to glance at Robb and frowning ever so slightly. "How are all the plants kept warm, though? I wasn't sure anything would be able to grow."

"It's not _that_ cold," Robb laughed, before sitting down on the grass and gesturing for Charlyse to do the same. "Winterfell was built over a series of natural hot springs. That's why it's so warm in this greenhouse, we use the hot springs to grow things in here that require moisture and warmth. There's even a passage to the hot springs. Maybe I could take you down there to swim sometime."

"Really?" Charlyse was delighted at the thought of that. She was used to warmth in King's Landing, but here in Winterfell it was amazing to realise that even though it was cold they found a way to bring up heat. She plucked up strands of grass between her fingers, marvelling at the greenness of it. The north was truly a place of wonder, despite how cold she found it. "I'd like that."

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled Charlyse and Robb. She looked up to see that Theon was watching them, making no attempt to hide the displeased expression on his face. Charlyse immediately clambered to her feet, fighting back the flush in her cheeks and distancing herself a little from Robb. Evidently, that was what was causing Theon to scowl so openly.

"Your mother wants you," Theon said to Robb, causing the dark-haired boy to offer Charlyse an apologetic look before exiting the greenhouse. Charlyse made to follow, but Theon caught her by the arm, spinning her around to face him and gripping her shoulders. "Is there something happening between you and Robb that I should know about?"

"I don't know," Charlyse replied mildly, lifting her chin to meet her older brother's gaze. "Is there? We are friends, certainly. Is that something you should know about?"

"You know what I mean," Theon snapped, sounding irritated at her sarcastic reply. "Do you have feelings for him, Charlyse? Do you imagine what it would be like to marry him?"

Charlyse drew away from him. Yes, she did, but it hardly mattered. She didn't know Robb well enough to have proper feelings for him. She surmised it was just the silly hormones of a fifteen-year-old girl who had met a handsome boy and been struck by his caring nature. Biting her lip, Charlyse tossed her hair over her shoulders and narrowed her eyes.

"What does it matter? I spoke to Robert, as you said I should. I'm not staying in Winterfell. I'm going back to King's Landing with them, to marry Renly. So even if Robb does care for me, which I doubt, then it doesn't even matter."

"He does," Theon admitted wryly, seeming to be struggling with the fact that his younger sister and the boy who was like a brother to him had a connection between them, something more than just mere friendship. "He talks about you all the time. If it was up to him, you wouldn't have to go south. He does care."

"Not that it amounts to anything," Charlyse folded her arms over her chest. For all the warmth of the hot springs, the greenhouse suddenly felt cold. She didn't think it was a good idea to stay in here, or to associate with Robb alone. Becoming close with him would only hurt both of them. "I'm betrothed now. Nothing will change Robert's mind."


End file.
